One Last Run
by Hikaru Morinaga
Summary: It started with a dropped vial. Then one of the 'pets' escaped, and Wesker didn't seem to care. It has happened before, it doesn't bother him. Leon and his new comrade, Chris Redfield, have got a situation on their hands. And only they can stop everything
1. Chapter 1

**One Last Run**

**-First-**

**Disclaimer:** Leon Kennedy, Ada Wong, Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, and Resident Evil are not mine; they belong to Capcom.

**Dedicated to:** Thenicochan, aka Nico. This is all your fault.

-x-

"Any news on that epidemic?" A woman sat on the arm of a leather easy chair and crossed one leg over the other.

"What epidemic?" a gruff voice replied, his face illuminated by the computer screen situated in front of him. It was the only light source in the darkened room, as the blinds were closed and the curtains pulled tightly over them.

"You know... The one caused by a certain...vial you dropped around a week ago."

"Vial?" Either he wasn't a good conversationalist or he was too focused on his work to focus on idle chit-chat. "What vial?"

The woman sighed. "The one I gave you from the trip you sent me on last year." What other vials would she have handed him in order to confuse him so?

However, she _knew_ he knew, and she could tell her boss could care less about an epidemic - it happened before, in 1996, and it was nothing new.

"Anyway, the nearby towns and cities are complaining of some sort of...disease running through the place, and they have no way of treating it because they don't know what it is."

Her boss shrugged, indifferent. "If you know that much about it, it seems that you don't need any news on it." His fingers danced across the keys on the keyboard as he updated yet another database.

"I'd just like to know if they're pointing fingers at us." She sounded so calm in a situation where so many lives were at risk. Had working for this man really desensitised her that much? Maybe she _did_ need that vacation...

"Who would be pointing fingers at us? There are chemical plants nearby they can blame, not us."

"And if they _do_ blame us?" She was really pressing the issue.

"Then we blame the chemical plants nearby," he replied, as if it were such an obvious answer. "Ada, I thought you were...above asking such stupid questions." He smirked as he continued his work, hoping he hit a nerve.

She scoffed and slid gracefully from the chair arm; she crossed the room and opened the door, lingering there. Well what do you know? He _did_ hit a nerve - a large one, judging from her attitude.

"It's stupid of me to think of my job, then, Albert?" She closed the door a little so it wasn't open all the way. "I just want to know if the government is getting involved, so I know what to tell the others."

Albert made a noise that sounded like a cross between a chuckle and a snort. Ada had never heard such a queer sound from someone usually so stoic before.

"You're just hoping the government gets involved so you can see what's-his-face again, not because you give a damn about us."

She opened the door once again and made to step out.

"Maybe I _am_ hoping to see him again. It wouldn't be the first time."

Albert sat back in his computer chair, his eyes scanning a line of text on the screen.

"When were you going to tell me one of our 'pets' escaped?" He didn't sound panicked, but a hint of annoyance was threaded through his voice.

Ada shrugged. "I figured you'd already received the memo from one of our lab techs, so I didn't feel the need to tell you anything."

"Maybe this is a good thing." He sounded pleased now, the annoyance gone. He grinned in satisfaction as a plan formed in his head, his fingers once again pressing a sequence of keys.

"How is a B.O.W. escaping a _good_ thing?"

Oh, she should have known by now that he didn't give a damn if a B.O.W. escaped. It was a great opportunity, he always said. A great opportunity for the US government to sniff around in their business whilst hundreds of people died. All for the sake of research and science.

"Combat data, my dear Ada," he replied. "Too bad S.T.A.R.S. isn't around anymore - I would have loved to have seen this thing rip Christopher Redfield limb from precious limb."  
Ada couldn't see her boss's expression due to his back facing her, but she knew he was probably wearing a grin of sick satisfaction at such a fantasy. Whatever this "Christopher Redfield" did, it must have been something _bad_.

It was then that she left the room. She had other business to take care of, and Albert Wesker's insanity was beginning to creep her out, if just a little. Light filtered into the room for a split second before she closed the door behind her.

-x-

_It's three in the fucking morning, who the hell would be calling at __**this**__ hour?_

It was barely light out as he fumbled on his bedside table for the obnoxiously loud cell phone, only to remember that it was in his pant's pocket. Nearly falling off the bed, he reached for his jeans on the floor, shoved his hand in the pocket, and glared at the cellular device, his vision still clouded over in a half-asleep stage. He flipped the cover open and put it to his ear, his hand rubbing his face as he sat upright.

"This had better be something important," he barked into the phone. "I was _sleeping_ and all."

"Well _sor-ree_, Leon, but duty can sometimes call at the strangest hours." The voice sounded too optimistic for it to be three in the morning.

"What the hell are you doing, calling me? I don't even _work_ with you."

There was a laugh on the other end, and Leon pulled the phone away from his ear to glare at it again.

"That was yesterday, this is today."

"That's lovely an' all," Leon replied, exaggerating his yawn just a little, "but I have to get up in _two hours_, so if you value your life, you'll shut the fuck up and let me sleep."

"Nu-uh, Leon. Get your ass to the nearest airport - you're picking me up. I'll tell you everything else there, providing it's not too crowded."

Leon was about to protest when the voice on the other end added, "And wear something nice - I haven't seen you since when, '95? Reunion bullshit and all that."

_Click_.

Leon flipped the phone closed and threw it back onto his pants, shaking his head the whole while.

"Why'd _I_ get stuck with this crap..." He sighed and got out of bed. Too late to go back to sleep now, he figured, and rummaged around his room trying to find clean clothes from the hamper.

"At least let me do my stupid laundry..."

-x-

For it only being three thirty in the morning, the airport was still as busy as rush hour traffic heading out of Jersey and into Manhattan. Leon looked at his watch impatiently as he sat in one of those uncomfortable airport seats, all the while wondering when the hell his new colleague was going to waltz off the tarmac and into the place.

"Figures he arrives at the busiest airport in New York, at the strangest time of the day, and expects me to be all sunshine and unicorns." The sun wasn't even up at such an hour, but Leon didn't realise he made a pun of sorts. He banged his head against the back of the chair a few times, wondering if he could knock himself out and sleep for a few minutes, maybe.

After dozing off a few times (not due to his now throbbing head), and resisting a group of flirting college girls, the lone plane from Paris finally arrived - on schedule, according to the arrivals board - and with it two hundred or so passengers who were probably kissing the ground. He looked at his watch again and shifted in his seat for the hundredth or so time in the span of five minutes. If it was one thing Leon Kennedy hated, it was waiting half an hour for something anti-climatic to happen. And planes arriving was about as anti-climatic as paint finally drying on a wall.

"Well _you_ hardly changed."

Leon jerked awake and saw a man with five o'clock shadow, a camouflaged vest, and tanned shirt hovering over him, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, with the widest grin ever plastered on his face.

"Chris, do you have any idea--"

"Yes," Chris replied before Leon could finish his sentence. He knew exactly what Leon was going to say. "I tried calling Jilly, but she wasn't picking up her phone, I have no idea where my sister is, and Barry's out of town, probably with his family."

"And I was sleeping," Leon corrected. "Soundly, I might add."

"But _you_ were available," Chris reasoned. "And...I hope you didn't take a taxi here."

Leon sat up and cracked his back, relieving some muscle tension from sitting in such an uncomfortable position.

"Motorcycle," Leon replied. "Hope you don't have more'n that to haul with you." He gestured to the duffel bag.  
Chris waved dismissively. "Yeah, like I'd burden myself with so much crap. Anyway, we should go somewhere more private - classified info and all that other stuff. Wasn't expecting so many people being here."

Leon stood and led Chris out of the bustling airport, wincing as they passed another pack of school-aged girls on spring break, catching the girls' attention and having them squeal immediately.

"Ah, to be seventeen again," Chris replied, walking out into the somewhat clean air New York City offered. The streetlamps, combined with the headlights of the forever-moving traffifc, provided more light than the sun ever could.

"Sometimes I swear you haven't grown up yet."

Chris pretended to be offended as he hopped onto Leon's motorcycle after him, shifting the duffel bag so that it was behind them more.

"You do know there's a helmet law, right?" Chris asked as the motor roared to life. Leon snorted.

"'n case you haven't noticed, we're both over the age of seventeen."

"Oh great," Chris remarked, "if we get into an accident, my brain guts'll spill out all over the pavement, all 'cause you're too badass to have any helmets."

Leon shook his head once again and they sped off into the horizon.

After a few minutes, Chris regretted stepping foot on Leon's motorcycle.

"Leeeeeooon! You're not supposed to weave in and out of traffic!" Chris yelled over the noise of the fast-moving traffic, his arms wrapped around Leon's waist for dear life. "And you're probably way over the speed limit!"

Chris sighed in relief when they were forced to stop at a red light; that was short lived, however, and yelped when Leon revved the engine and then sped off, going twenty miles over the posted speed limit of thirty five.

"I think you should've been in motorcross. You would've been great at it. WATCH OUT FOR THAT OLD LADY!"

Indeed there was an older woman taking her sweet time crossing the street. Leon wasn't appreciating Chris being a backseat-driver.

"I _see_ her, Chris, just shut up and let me drive us home before I throw you off."

Chris said nothing more, and was relieved when the apartment complex was in view fifteen minutes later.

-x-

**Author's Notes:** Haha, Leon's kinda acting like an ass to Chris, but you'd be pissed off if you were sleeping so good and then you get a phone call at three in the morning from your best friend asking to be picked up at an airport. They're really best friends, which you'll see later on.

Chapter two soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**One Last Run**

**-Second-**

"So what does this have to do with my department?" Leon asked after downing half of his beer. Chris sidestepped a stack of magazines and newspapers and made himself at home on the couch opposite Leon.

"Well, everyone's pretty suspicious about how this whole epidemic started, so they want us to locate the source of it. Officials are saying it originated from a chemistry lab in a high school in New Jersey." Chris sounded skeptical.

Leon looked at Chris pointedly. "I'm apart of the Secret Service, Chris. That's out of my league."

Chris put his feet up on the coffee table and rested his beer bottle on his torso.

"They don't tell you much, do they?" Amused.

"Tell me what?" Leon didn't understand what was so amusing to Chris.

"That they transferred you to another department for this mission," Chris replied, as if it was supposed to be obvious. "We lack manpower there and...well, they said you were the best, so... There we are."

Figures that they didn't tell him something important like that. It was like the incident in Spain all over again - they called him last minute on the way to a date to tell him to fly out over there, that Ashley Graham went missing. For something important, they procrastinated.

"So when're we leaving?" Leon asked. "So then I can do laundry and pack and crap."

"This evening. Gives plenty of time for you to pack and get everything together and what not." Chris snickered then as sunlight began filtering through the window of Leon's living room.

"What's so funny, Redfield?" Leon was up from the worn couch and removing articles of clothing draped over chair arms, under the table, and something that was obviously not his on the lampshade. When was the last time he had done any cleaning?

"That jacket of yours," Chris replied, pointing to the jacket Leon was wearing.

"What about it?" Now in his bedroom, Leon was retrieving his clothes from the hamper and jamming them into a plastic laundry basket.

"Same one you had back in high school."

Leon gave Chris the weirdest look as he plopped the basket full of clothes by the front door.

"I wish."

"Nu-uh, that's the same exact one. Your bomber jacket was practically _glued_ to you. You always pouted during gym class when we had to change..."

"I'm telling you, it's not the same one. I...lost the original one," Leon confessed, walking around the place in search of laundry detergent. Laundromats were expensive enough - he wasn't about to pay ten bucks more for _detergent_. Chris watched his companion as he finished off his beer.

"Where'd you leave it?" Chris asked, just as Leon went, "Aha, I knew I left it here."

Leon dropped the blue container on top of the dirty laundry, walked back into the living room, and plopped back down on the couch.

"Spain," Leon replied simply. "Back-ass-water Spain."

Chris gave him a look that read "bullshit".

"The hell were you doing out in _Spain_? You who flunked Spanish since third grade."

"Top secret mission," Leon replied. "And I'll have you know that I got a D in Spanish junior year."

"I thought your dad wanted you to take French since he said you'd do better?"

"He did," Leon answered, "but Mom blackmailed me into taking Spanish. She said it opened up better business opportunities. And what the hell does any of this have to do with..."

"Because we were talking about you going to Spain," Chris replied. "They were probably saying, 'Look at this idiot American,' and you wouldn't even know!"

Leon snorted. "So what were you doing in _Paris_ for eight years then, huh? All you know in French is the word for 'shit'."

Chris puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. "I'll have you know that I'm great at French!"

"Say something, then." Was that a challenge Leon was proposing?

Chris cleared his throat and said, with a grin, "Tu es fils d'un gay et d'une pute," in the most American-sounding way possible.

Leon gave Chris a blank look. "...All I understood was 'gay' and 'pute'."

"Really now?"

"Gay and whore, respectively. 'Cause _puta_ is Spanish for whore."

"So what _do_ you know in Spanish?" Chris asked. "Just out of curiosity since you failed it an' all."

"Usted consigue el asiento de pasillo en el avión cuando salimos esta noche."

It was Chris's turn to give a blank look. To Chris, Leon might as well have been speaking Japanese.

"What? I thought you got B's in Spanish in grade school?" Leon teased.

"Maybe it's because you didn't sound Spanish-y," Chris said, making up an excuse for his lack of knowledge.

"I said 'you get the aisle seat on the airplane when we leave tonight'."

Chris puffed out his chest again. "I _hate_ the aisle seat, though! Some fartknocker forced me into it and he kept _getting out of his goddamn seat_ and I wanted to jump out the freakin' window over it. God was he annoying."

Leon got up then, grabbing his keys from the coffee table when he passed it.

"Where the hell're you going?" Chris asked, turning in his seat, and poked his head into the doorway. "We're in the middle of a conversation, here!"

"Uh, laundry and some shopping." Leon patted himself down to see where his wallet was, and found it in his back pocket. "If you need anything, you're paying yourself. I only have enough to pay for my crap."

"Who said I was going with you?"

Leon shrugged. "You'll go through my room and look for panties or bras or something if I leave you by yourself. Can't have _that_ happen - what would I tell _Rebecca_?"

"Why, do you _have_ any panties or bras you're hiding from me?" Chris asked, ignoring the last part.

"That's for me to know and for you to keep your nose out of."

With that sentiment expressed, Chris jumped over the arm rest and nearly knocked Leon through the door before dragging the poor brunet down the hall to the elevator. Leon would grapple Chris if his new jeans got holes in them from rug burn. Not that he didn't protest to being dragged by the arm, of course, because he was doing so loud enough that neighbours were looking out their doors.

-x-

"Will you stop doing that? You're making me dizzy over here."

"Then stop watching me, Leon."

"I have to make sure you don't do anything weird with my laundry." Leon turned back to the newspaper he was reading, scanning the headlines for anything interesting.

"You're friggin' _obsessed_ with your laundry!"

"I haven't done it since...last week. It needed to be done. If I had know we were on such a tight schedule, I would've done it yesterday after..." Leon trailed off, not wanting to follow the train of words to completion.

Chris stopped watching Leon's socks and other garments twirl around inside the washing machine and turned to face him instead.

"After what?" Chris sounded a little concerned by the way Leon ended the sentence.

"Not important," Leon replied. To make his point, he ruffled the newspaper and looked at the Sport section instead.

Ten minutes went by. Chris was flicking his lighter on and off to pass the time as he listened to two women gossip. Leon was muttering to himself after blowing his fringe away from his eyes for the millionth time. Something about "I need a goddamn haircut."

"That's what you get for having emo hair," Chris said matter-of-factly.

"'Emo hair'?" Leon asked. "What the hell's 'emo'?"

Chris shrugged. "I dunno, but two kids were talking about it on the plane ride here. One of 'em had hair similar to yours, 'cept it was pitch black."

The two gossiping women overheard their conversation and began to wonder if Leon lived under a rock. Like Leon had enough time in the day to watch television long enough to see what was fashionable and what was not. He barely had enough time in the day to eat half of the time, since he spent most of that doing mountains of paperwork. Much more important than stupid fashion trends, in Leon's opinion.

"Laundry's done," Chris chirped as the washing machine buzzer went off eight minutes after an awkward silence.

"Get that for me, will'ya?"

"Fuck am I, your servant?"

"You're standing right in front of it, Chrissy," Leon stated. "Please?"

Chris sighed, unable to resist the tone in Leon's voice; he turned back around and opened the door of the machine. "Fine. You dry these?"

Leon peered over the top of the newspaper and gave Chris a "duh" look. "Yeah, of course I do. Whaddya think I do, hang them up?"

Chris threw the sopping laundry into the dryer and selected the time Leon paid for. "I'm glad I have a washer and dryer at my place. This takes too long."

Leon glared. "If you'd told me sooner, I could've gone over there and done it for free. Quickly."

Chris sighed and sat down next to Leon. "So, to change the topic to something less bland... You excited about the mission?"

"Not really." To Leon, it was just another stack of paperwork he had to complete afterwards. He was still filling out things for the whole Ashley Graham fiasco, and that was a year ago.

"Gives you something to do, and hey, it's only in Jersey."

"So was my previous station of employment," Leon replied, " and so was yours. Then the city got overrun with zombies and it was eventually nuked."

Chris blinked a few times before he came to a startling realisation. "Raccoon City got _nuked_?"

Leon folded up the paper and placed it on the chair next to him. "What, the French newspapers not say anything about it?" How could the media half-way across the world not know anything about Raccoon City being nuked? The incident received national attention due to Umbrella's alleged involvement. Chris must have not been reading the right newspapers.

Chris shook his head. "Obviously not. Jill never said anything. Neither did Claire when I saw her last. That _bastard_ didn't say anything, either."

The last part piqued Leon's interest. "'Bastard'?" Just who was Chris talking about?

"'member that mentor I had when I was in S.T.A.R.S.?" Chris had forgotten that Leon had, to his knowledge, never met Mr. Albert Wesker before, and Chris sure as hell wasn't going to introduce them now. Not after what that man did.

"Blond hair, blue eyes, sunglasses, all black attire, tall?" Leon clarified. Maybe Leon _did_ know Wesker.

_Oh right, he was with Claire before she left to go to Paris._

Chris nodded.

"Yeah, I remember him. You gushed praise about him in your letters to me when you were there and I was finishing up the Academy."

"Fucker betrayed us," Chris spat. "Hate him, wouldn't mind seeing him burn in Hell. Anyway, I saw him when I was helping Claire out. He told me nothing about that."

The dryer buzzed, and Leon got up to shut it off and retrieve his clothes.

"People in backwater Spain knew of the whole thing with Raccoon City, and yet nothing in Paris? 'S a little odd."

Chris shrugged. "Either that or it was there and I couldn't understand it. Or I was reading the wrong type of newspaper. They had enough of 'em."

Leon was holding the basket full of laundry and gestured with his head. "Let's go. I still need a bunch of shit at the store, and those ladies are pissing me off with their rumours about whether or not I live in a cave."

"Hopefully not with your laundry."

Leon blinked. "Hopefully I don't live in a cave with my laundry?"

Chris sighed and placed his hands on his hips, giving Leon a long, hard look. "No, dumbass, I hope you don't go to the store with your laundry."

Definitely not to the store, no. The people in the store would think he was nuts. Then again, if any normal person saw a 5'11" male toting a gun on his belt, they would think he was a little strange to begin with.

-x-

"Lee, this shit's on sale," Chris said in a sing-song voice, picking up your average can of generic shaving cream.

"No wonder it's on sale, doofus," Leon replied, pointing at the brand, "it's crap."

Chris cradled the shaving cream and pouted. "What're you blabbering about? This is the greatest brand of shaving cream ever!" Chris liked generics. They worked just as well as the name brands, he would always argue.

Leon rolled his eyes and sighed as he walked down the aisle, Chris not that far behind him, still clutching the shaving cream.

"This is the last time I go shopping with you."

Chris dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "You're shopping for a month when we're only gonna be in _Jersey_. They have stores. And hotels. And civilisation." Clearly Chris was missing the point of Leon's shopping trip. Didn't he notice Leon's fridge was empty, and that there was barely anything in it?

"I'm not just doing shopping for the trip, Chris, I need stuff for _me_."

Chris busted out laughing when Leon picked out a particular item, and Leon looked only mildly embarrassed.

"I swear you're ten years old. _Swear it_."

"I didn't even know you were _dating_ someone," Chris said when he had calmed down enough to be coherent. Luckily, no one was staring at them. No one was staring at them _yet_, anyway.

"Well now you do. Now shuddit so I can pay for these things and go back home."

As if Leon's day couldn't get any worse, Chris ended up in an argument with the cashier. Right when Leon was half-way in between the automatic doors with ten shopping bags in hand.

"Chris, come _on_ before I cuff your ass and haul you the hell out of here that way!" Leon had grabbed Chris by the scruff of his shirt and was trying to keep the cashier away at the same time. Such a feat would normally be impossible whilst one has their hands practically full, but Leon wasn't exactly your Average Joe.

Chris flailed his arms, trying to get free and sock the still-yelling cashier in the face. "She called me flamboyant! I'm not gonna take that standing up!"

_Then take it sitting down, Chris_. "Maybe she knows about how much you gushed about that Wesker guy and thinks there was something going on between you two."

Chris blushed fiercely and allowed Leon to drag him off, figuring fighting was moot, and he didn't want the cops involved. That was all he needed right then. He would have rather had Leon knock him out with the can of shaving cream than still be conscious and see everyone staring.

"Impersonating a cop is a crime, mister!" the cashier shouted behind them, waving her fist in the air in a threatening manner. At least, the cashier thought it was threatening. Chris scoffed at the attempt.

"I'm not impersonating one, I _am_ one! Officer Christopher fucking Redfield!"

"Shut the fuck _up_, Chris," Leon said, pulling him through the doors of the supermarket at last. "Unless you somehow got accepted as one of New York's finest, you're not 'officer'."

"I'm better than a cop, anyhow," Chris bragged. "Secret fucking _agent man_." He then wrenched his arm from Leon's grip and brushed himself off. "I can drag my ass back to your place myself."

"Good. Maybe then you can tell me how the hell they picked you for this assignment."

Chris actually wondered that himself. Especially since, if Leon was "the best", why the hell would they need him, anyway? Leon could take care of himself, could kick someone's ass and take their name while he was at it. Maybe they needed a really good sniper...

"You prefer to snap someone's neck or shoot 'em in the head?" Chris asked randomly on the walk to Leon's.

"What kind of question is _that_?"

Chris shrugged, trying to keep up the pace. Leon walked too fast for Chris's liking.

"You were always good at wrestling, 's why the team won so many medals and crap. Only natural you'd rather beat someone up than fill 'em with lead."

Leon replied, "I actually prefer neither."

"...Really." Chris didn't believe Leon for a minute. He crossed his arms and shook his head to prove his disbelief.

"I prefer to knife 'em. Saves ammo and energy."

That wasn't what Chris was expecting. _Figures Leon finds some way to be unpredictable_.

-x-

"Change of plans," Chris said, coming into Leon's room, cell phone in hand. "They want us there. Now."

Leon was propped up on a pillow, gun magazine in hand.

"I thought we were leaving in the-- Hey!"

Chris snatched the magazine out Leon's hands, pulled him off the very half-assily-made bed, and dragged him into the foire where the luggage was, all packed and ready to go.

"They're providing transport, so that's a good thing. You're a psycho when you drive." Chris was zipping up one of the duffel bags after making sure everything was in it.

"Ignoring that you just said that last thing, I wouldn't be able to drive us anyway. Too much luggage."

Chris was running around like a chicken with its head cut off now, making sure that they had everything and that he didn't forget his wallet and goddammit _where are the keys_. Leon watched with a look of amusement on his face as he leaned against the wall across from the baggage, fingers scratching his head. Compared to Chris, Leon was as calm as a lake.

"Fucking a," Chris said, shouting from the bathroom. He was leaning quite far out the window, his legs kicking at the wall underneath him.

"What'd you do _now_?" Leon hoped Chris didn't actually fall _out_ of the window.

"Almost dropped my wallet out the window." Chris came running out of the facilities - wallet in hand - and jerked the front door open rather violently. "Why the hell are you so calm, anyway?" Chris thought it odd that Leon wasn't as nervously-excited as he was.

Leon smirked. "I've done this before. 'Cept the last time they didn't let me pack. They just...pulled me off the street, shoved me in the car, and drove me to the airport without a word except, 'Ms. Graham's missing, _find her_'. Least they gave warning this time."

Chris grabbed all of their belongings and ran out of the apartment towards the elevator, shouting for Leon to hurry the hell up as he did, nearly tripping over the carpet and into the deadend hallway.

_Haven't changed one bit, have you, Chris?_

-x-

"Oh fucking a, they bumped my head into the door!"

Leon had to admit, they were a bit rough in escorting them into the car - maybe 'rough' wasn't the right word to even use. They weren't even in that much of a hurry, anyway. And besides, if Chris had just listened and _lowered his head_, he wouldn't have been slapped upside it by the car door frame. The man in a black suit and tie got into the passenger side seat, said a few things to the driver, and shut the door a few seconds after they took off.

"Mr. Kennedy, you know of your assignment from Mr. Redfield?" the aforementioned suited fellow asked, his eyes trained on the road ahead. All he needed was some sunglasses and he would fit the "stereotypical Secret Service Agent" role perfectly.

"We're investigating the possible origin of a potential epidemic," Leon replied. "Sources say it's from a chemistry lab in a New Jersey school."

"We didn't tell either of you this, but reports are coming in saying that a company may have dumped this chemical and it somehow spread to neighbouring towns, infecting schools, businesses, and other facilities. We have other sources on the look out for any other details."

"What company?" Chris asked, watching the scenery passing by the car window, focusing more on the reflection in the window glass than the other cars and trees, his arm keeping his head from resting against the glass.

"They're saying that Umbrella Incorporated may have something to do with this. We've got people trying to hunt the lead down to see if this is correct."

That caught Chris's attention. He lifted his head from his hand and looked much more alert before, so much more serious now. "Umbrella? But I thought they were done with? We...we took them down..."

"Apparently, one of Umbrella's former employees and gifted researcher started it again sometime last year."

"Name?" Leon asked. "Does this guy have a name that we know of?"

There was a long silence, and for a while, that was all of the information they got. Leon looked to Chris and knew right away the answer.

This former mentor of Chris's... Was he behind it all? Leon wanted to ask Chris, but figured he would spill the beans soon enough. And besides, Chris looked wounded enough. Who could blame him, though? Chris worked hard to bring Umbrella down, only to have all that work undone.

Something wasn't right. And Leon was going to find out how to make it so.

-x-

"It's urgent that I speak with him," a woman said into the phone receiver as she slipped into her office chair. "I have some information for him." She drummed her fingers on her desk.

"What do you _mean_ I can't know where he is? Yes, I understand that he's on an assignment, I know what his job is. But my information has everything to do with--Just let me talk to him." She listened to the woman on the other end. Her eyes narrowed for a split second before she let out an aggravated sigh.

"It's about the B.O.W., the epidemic." She rolled her eyes at the phone receptionist's incompetence. "Patch me through then. That's my _boyfriend_ out there." Maybe the receptionist would patch her through sooner if Ada just said "husband".

There was a knock on her office door then. She cupped the receiver and yelled, "Come in." She figured it must be important if they were bothering her now.

"You're not wearing your signature red dress today," the newly arrived woman remarked, holding the papers in her hands to her face.

_Hiding that smirk, are you, Sherry? Just like your mother._

"What is it?" Ada asked, her patience becoming nonexistent. "Can't you see I'm on the ph--Leon! Do you know how _hard_ it is to get in touch with you?" She gestured for Sherry to come forward, and held out her hand.

"I know, the stupid receptionist told me that. But it's imperative that I tell you this." She moved the receiver away from her mouth. "You can leave now."

But Sherry stayed there, interested in Ada's phone conversation. It must not have been work-related, since no one by the name of "Leon" worked for the newly-rebuilt Umbrella Incorporation. Ada better not have been talking to that stupid boyfriend of hers again; Sherry would go to her boss if that was the case.

"Now, Sherry," Ada said, moving the phone away from her mouth once again. "Before I burn your report and tell Wesker you never did it." Ada was not the type to make idle threats.

"Y'know, for a woman, you're not very pleasant."

"_Get out of here_!"

Sherry froze when Ada pointed a gun in her face, her finger poised over the trigger. This happened at least twice a day between the two of them. It hardly gave Ada any pleasure to see the new lab tech in fear.

"Sorry about that, Leon, I had an unwelcome guest in my office." She placed the gun back in its holster, located on her desk, and watched Sherry retreat from the tense atmosphere of Ms. Wong's office.

-x-

"But how--" Chris seemed to be at a loss of words at the news. "We took Umbrella down... That _bastard_'s the one who's resurrecting it--"

A shrill _beep_ cut through the air, and at first, no one knew just exactly where the noise was coming from. The driver and his co-worker seemed to not hear it, and Chris pulled the window down to see if it was coming from outside. But as it got more panicked, Leon realised that it was his cell phone ringing, after Chris nearly got decapitated by a bicyclist passing too close to the car. Producing the phone from his pocket, he answered it, cutting the ring off at last.

"'llo?"

The men in the front seats said nothing as always, though Chris did look a little peeved at the aforementioned bicyclist. He slouched as far down his seat as his seatbelt allowed him to (which wasn't far), his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

"Yeah, I'm kinda busy right now... I'm in the middle of an assignment..."

There was a ten second pause as Leon listened to the other end. "What's so important that you call me _now_? This really can't wait until I--"

Another pause, this time for quite a bit. Leon swore he heard Ada yelling at someone else, presumably a woman named _Cherie_ or something. It was five seconds after the yelling stopped that she told of what her business was.

"_What_? It's _where_? Ada, you've gotta be..."

Leon said a few more things that Chris paid no heed to before he finally hung up. Chris had never seen him look so serious before.

"What's wrong?"

"There's something in the school alright - not something you'd usually expect. No wonder they called us in."

Before Chris could ask just what the "unexpected" thing was, they arrived at their destination.

Chris was having flashbacks to eight years ago - was that normal?

-x-

"You know why I called you here, correct?"

Ada nodded, looking as bored and disinterested as possible. "Yes, Albert, I do."

Albert smirked, his hands folded in front of his face. His office was, once again, dark. It was as if he was opposed to sunlight. "Then you know what your mission is?"

"I am to collect combat data from the new bioweapon and relay it back to here."

His smirk became something that resembled a smile, a twisted curl of the lip. "That is correct, Miss Wong. I will be keeping contact throughout, so keep your beeper on at all times. And make sure your logs are accurate and detailed - no slip-ups or missing information this time."

Ada nodded and spun on her heel, wanting to get out of the headquarters as fast as possible. "I'll be leaving now, then."

"One more thing, Ada."

She turned back around, looking puzzled. This was unlike him - usually he just gave the mission and sent them off to work. He never added anything extra on once everything was established.

"What is it, Albert?"

"I hear Christopher Redfield is involved in all of this, along with his best friend Leon Kennedy."

"Yes," Ada replied. "That is correct information."

Albert leaned back into his chair, his hands now resting on the chair arms, his eyes peering over the tops of his sunglass frames. She hated it when he did that - his unnatural eye colour irked her, made her feel so uncomfortable.

"Make sure that Mr. Redfield suffers dearly. If possible, have the B.O.W. fight him, and bring him back if you can. I have a few things I need to settle with him."

Ada nodded. "Yes, Albert."

"I'll be in touch," he said as she left the room. "And make sure our new trainee isn't coddled, but that she isn't killed, either. She's very important to the future of this place - don't blow it."

Ada sighed as she rounded the corner of the hallway, the hem of her signature red dress dancing at her feet as she walked. It was hard working for a company that always had the government snooping around, because she was dating someone who was always given such a task.

And this time was no exception.

_This is what makes being a double agent fun_, she thought. If word got out about her position, however, Wesker would have her head. He trusted her with important information (which she was leaking some of to her secret agent boyfriend), which was a foolish thing to do. And the others were starting to become suspicious of her motives.

Off to work, then. Time to help Leon and get Wesker what he wanted all at the same time. Or that was her plan, anyway. She didn't hear the last thing Wesker said - something that would make it hard for her to be effective as a double agent.


End file.
